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Philadelphia Row is a term used, not only in Philadelphia neighborhoods, but elsewhere to refer to orderly rows of regularized housing. But there is nothing orderly or regular about any of the goings on in a Philadelphia Row.﻿﻿

A colossal change in my life is occurring as I key in these words. A house that was full of junk and odd smells is transforming into a home for my family. As I have been dubbed the Queen of Hyperbole in the past, I have no qualms about saying the words, this is the hardest thing I have ever done!

And as I was changing one house from crap into a home, I had to move all the things from my home into this house before it was ready.

Now, when we moved into the previous row, the first thing that pulled me was the closet under the stairs. I looked in the hidey hole that did nothing more than conceal a few boxes that were never unpacked from the zombie house we moved from. But it did have a paint splotch on the wall. When I first saw the splotch, my brain saw a witch. And every time I opened the closet, I saw a witch on the wall. It was never a paint splotch, until I stood real close to it and traced the shape with my fingers. Moreover, I constantly had an awareness of the witch in the closet. It was not something I had made or put in the closet, it was something I found with which I shared my space. I had an awareness of the witch most days and I have no doubt if someone asked me, while I lived there what was the most interesting thing about living in that row, it would be the witch that stayed in the closet.

Now I'm in this new [new to me, so just different] row and I'm cleaning out all the hidey holes to put my own things into the spaces and I want to be better this go 'round. I don't want to come across something in the closet that hadn't been used for years just because it comforts me to keep it around. But then if I don't, there won't be any witches in the closet lingering for some other perceptive eye to see later.